


You Bet!

by Raja_Myna



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Crossdressing for Fun and Profit, Gen, Humor, Mostly Profit, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raja_Myna/pseuds/Raja_Myna
Summary: Ed has lost a bet with his co-workers. He intends to turn it around on them, but to do that he will need both Al and Winry’s help.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric & Winry Rockbell
Comments: 18
Kudos: 78





	You Bet!

A vacation in East City had done wonders for Winry. Despite her passion for her work, a break now and then was nice. Seeing Ed and Al, without Ed being in the hospital, having destroyed her arm – _again_ – and Al being scrap metal? Without any stress whatsoever? Just relaxing, shopping and enjoying life for a couple of weeks?

It was wonderful.

So the cautious knock on the door to her hotel room – not really indicative of either of the brothers – was merely confusing rather than alarming. The confusion amped up rapidly however, as Ed all but snuck in as soon as she answered the door.

“Ed? What are you-”

“I need your help,” he interrupted.

Winry blinked. “Of course! What-”

“Not here,” Ed interrupted again. He glanced around like he thought someone was spying on them.

Ah. _There_ was the worry. “Where, then?”

Ed looked decidedly shifty. Winry silently palmed a wrench. “I… have a couple of errands to run, but… can you be at our hotel in two hours? It’s nothing bad, I promise!” he hurried to assure her, but it was a bit too late for that.

“Two hours?” Winry took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Great, thanks!” Ed smiled, and that eased her worry far better than his lousy attempt at verbal comfort – it was soft, with a hint of mischief more than anything else, instead of the exaggerated humour he always tried to slap on whenever it was something that really _would_ worry her. She slipped the wrench into her belt, made sure she could draw it quickly if she needed to and smiled back.

“I’ll se you in two hours then,” Ed said, and made for her window. He opened it and slipped out, but before he let go of the windowsill he dragged himself back up. “Oh, yeah!” he tossed her a small purse, “could you get a couple of heels?”

Winry caught the purse but fumbled it almost immediately because _what_? “Heels?”

“Yeah!” said Ed, apparently unconcerned with the words that had come from his mouth. “High heels. Tall ones. Preferably those with a spike, you know the ones that look like a murder weapon? Black ones.”

“Tall black heels that look like a murder weapon,” Winry repeated. “You got it!”

“Great!” said Ed, and dropped from the window.

That was when Winry remembered that she was staying on the third floor.

_-_-_-_

It took Winry nearly an hour and a half to find and decide upon the perfect heels. (She’d been sidetracked once, though, and spent fifteen precious minutes obsessing over a beautiful pair for herself – with tiny buttons looking like wrenches. She’d memorised the store though, and when she was done with whatever it was that Ed wanted from her, she’d make him buy them for her. Equivalent exchange and all, it was only fair.) Mid-calf black leather and a heel that looked less like you _could_ kill with it and more like you _had_ killed with it and was attempting to disguise it.

She had very deliberately turned away from the knee-high silver skull studded ones. They were ostentatious and Ed would probably have loved them, which was more than enough reason to keep them from him.

Winry had had a small moment of crisis when she realised that Ed had not specified which size he had wanted. In the end, she bought them to fit Ed out of spite, figuring that they could run and exchange the shoes for the appropriate size later on. _Oh Ed_ , she intended to say with an innocent smile, _you mean they weren’t for you?_

She arrived at Ed and Al’s room with five minutes to go, and was totally unsurprised to find that Ed had not yet arrived. Al sat by the window, however, and looked up when she entered.

“Hi, Winry!”

“Hey Al!” she hoisted the shoe box up on the table. “Do you have any idea why Ed wanted a pair of heels?”

Al’s entire armour quivered with barely supressed laughter. “Yes, but I think I’ll let him tell you.”

Winry pouted. “No fair!”

Shaking his head, Al finally laughed out loud. “Trust me, you want him to tell you.”

Before Winry could amp the pout up further (and get Al to cave, dammit), there was a knock on the door, this one much more familiar than the timid uncharacteristic thing that had appeared at Winry’s hotel two hours earlier.

“Hey Al, come help me! I can’t get the door open!”

“I got it,” chimed Winry before Al could move, and swung the door open.

Behind stood Ed, three bags dangling from his arms and books stacked upon them up to his nose. “Winry! You’re here already!”

“Let me help you with that,” said Winry and took half the books. She put them on the table beside the shoe box and crossed her arms. “I’m very curious now.”

“I figured,” said Ed. He left his books on top of the ones Winry had taken and started packing up groceries from two of the bags. The third bag was left to Al’s mercies, and Winry busied herself helping Ed with the unpacking.

“So…” led Winry.

Ed winced a little. “I guess the simplified version is I lost a bet.”

Over by the window, Al snickered as he examined the contents of his bag.

“A bet,” deadpanned Winry. She shook her head. “Really, Ed?” She paused for a second and felt the lightbulb ignite. “The heels. You’re going to wear heels. For a bet.”

“No,” said Ed firmly. “I’m going to wear heels to turn their stupid bet back around on them!”

“Them?” Winry tried not to sound too cautious.

“Colonel Mustang and his team,” offered Al. “They really do deserve it, they set brother up.”

“So… why did you need me?”

Ed gritted his teeth. “The suspicious bastard probably keeps tabs on me, so I don’t try to weasel out of it.”

“So you just needed me to buy the heels so they don’t get suspicious?” She’s still going to get Ed to buy that pair for her.

“Not just that,” said Al.

“You need to teach me to walk in them,” said Ed at almost the same time.

Al nodded eagerly. “And of course, if you want to do more, we have more things that you could help with later.”

Winry nodded. “Right. Walking in heels. How long do we have?”

“Until Friday,” said Al. So three days. Could be worse.

“Right. Let’s get started then.” She made to unpack the shoes but paused before even getting the lid off of the box, as she caught sight of the topmost book in the pile. “ _Teenage rebellion and how to handle it_? Ed?”

There was an embarrassed pause. “Al and I are pretending that we’re fighting. In case the paranoid bastard actually checks what I borrow from the library… I wanted to make it seem authentic.”

“Authentic? A parenting book, Ed!”

“Al’s giving me the silent treatment and resentful looks while I’m burying myself in books. Mostly alchemy, but… yes, a parenting book or two.”

“That is not how you two handle being mad at each other.”

Al shrugs, and somehow manages to give the impression that he’s smiling angelically. “But they don’t know that.”

Right. Winry shook her head and tried to remember what she was doing. Unpacking the heels, that was it.

She lifted them up for inspection and Ed immediately zeroed in on the stiletto. “Shit, Win, these are actual weapons.”

“That’s what you asked for.” She hesitated a moment. “These aren’t exactly beginner heels though.”

“Eh, it’s fine.” Ed took them from her and ran his fingers over the leather. “All goes well, I won’t ever use them after Friday, so.”

Winry pursed her lips, a little displeased at the thought though she could not put her finger on _why_. “Well, no point in delaying. Put them on, we need to make sure they fit! And then we’ll get started!”

“Wait!” said Al, and dug around in the bag again. He pulled out some blue fabric and tossed it to Ed. “You should probably practice in the skirt.”

“Skirt?” choked Winry. Sure enough, the fabric Al managed to clock Ed in the head with was a skirt. Probably knee length, Winry decided.

Ed grasped it grimly. “I’m not just going to do this thing, I’m going to own it. And they’re going to regret it.”

Winry hummed. “I suppose you were always very cute in my skirts.”

This made Ed blush, and he turned his head away. “That – that was ages ago. And, never mind that. Let’s just get this thing over with!”

“Right!” said Winry over Al’s renewed laughter (Al seemingly forgetting that he too had looked adorable in Winry’s skirts). “Get changed, and we’ll see about getting you to look good in those shoes.”

_-_-_-_

Good things come to those who wait, and Roy had waited the whole week just for this day.

Fullmetal tended to be late, so while their meeting was set for nine, he wouldn’t be surprised if the boy – embarrassed as he was sure to be – wouldn’t show until half past. Therefore, he felt fully justified in going to get a second cup of coffee, even if it was going to make it tight in terms of time. The clock was five minutes to nine as he returned to the office and caught sight of an unusual addition to the corridor.

“Miss Rockbell!”

“Colonel!” the girl held a camera in her hands. Roy was pretty sure he knew what was going on, but he raised an eyebrow at it, inviting her to elaborate. “Oh, this?” she asked. “I’m… not actually sure, Al just told me to be here, at this time, and to bring a camera, because something interesting was going to happen.”

Roy often had moments when he felt grateful to Alphonse, and this was just one more of them.

He wasn’t sure what the brothers were fighting over, but apparently it was bad enough for Alphonse to set Miss Rockbell on his brother, and bad enough for Edward to check out books on parenting and how to handle teenage rebellion (and there, Roy was immensely surprised the boy had not immediately choked on the irony. It had to be thick enough to drown in).

“You can say that,” he offered. “If you’d like to come inside, you can wait on our office couch instead. It’s far more comfortable.”

“I’ll do that, thank you.”

And that was good, because if Edward caught sight of her with the camera before he even got in, he would likely flee the building entirely. The boy had, after all, been very firm on the no cameras, and since they all felt a little guilty at basically trapping him in this agreement, they had agreed to hold to it. But. Well.

They could hardly help it if Alphonse and Miss Rockbell conspired behind their backs, now could they?

At one minute to nine, he heard the tell-tale _click_ of heels in the corridor, but no sign of Fullmetal’s heavy boots. There was a strange cadence to the steps, but it wasn’t until they stopped in front of their door and a knock sounded that he really paid attention to it.

Everyone looked up from their work. Miss Rockbell raised her camera. Roy wished he could tell her it was likely at least half an hour until it would get any use. Edward would hardly be eager to show up in military uniform.

“Come in,” Roy called and took another sip of coffee.

The following events happened very rapidly. Roy took in the person standing at the door. Long blonde hair hanging loose. Skirt. Stockings. A really impressive pair of heels. Not much of a chest. Major. Golden eyes.

.

.

.

So that’s how coffee felt when snorted out the nose.

In the time it took for Roy’s brain to reboot, Edward crossed the room, slapped his written report down on his desk and said sarcastically, “Do you want a verbal report as well? No? Then I’m going.” He then did exactly as he said, turned around, and left.

“What?” Roy managed. His team looked equally gobsmacked. The only person in the room not staring at the door was…

“Well, that certainly was interesting,” said Miss Rockbell cheerfully as she took one last picture as they turned to stare at her, before lowering the camera. “Thanks for letting me in.” Then she walked out the same way Edward had.

“What the hell?” said Roy.

Hawkeye, having gathered herself far more impressively than the rest of them, answered, “I suppose next time you should specify _which_ uniform you want him to wear.”

“What the hell,” said Roy again.


End file.
